Partnership
by Chris000
Summary: Allen Roan and Samantha Jackson have absolutely nothing in common. They are from two different worlds, two different races, and have two different personalities. When Vanguard Ent. gives them a job, they need to put aside differences and work together.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Partnership

Chris000

"_It has been said that society is based on balance. Balance that upholds the very nature of what we have created. But what of those who wish to usurp society? Those that wish to put this creation at risk? Unfortunately, since its expansion into interstellar space, Humanity has made a new enemy: Itself. Without proper administration, those wishing to separate would cause disastrous effects on the greater Human civilization. Without proper administration and attention, we would destroy ourselves._"

-Elias Carver

Allen Tiberius Roan's only task on his family farm was to make sure that everything moved along smoothly. The suns of Sigma Octantis IV were just poking above the far mountaintops, bathing Allen in a warm glow. He enjoyed the sunlight, as he did every day. It cheered him up, offered him hope. He gripped his shovel tighter in his hands and set to work digging a new hole. Dad had asked him to plant some new trees in rich soil, so he had been out here since four thirty digging holes, planting seeds, and adapting saplings. Farming was an old tradition, well over thirty thousand years old, but now it had become much more important than anything else that Allen had known. Since Humans got off Earth, there had been a need to ship supplies back to the homeworld and the Inner Colonies. That was the job of the Outer Worlds, borderlands on space, untapped resources, and rich soil to grow food in.

Allen's family was one of the best.

The Roans had been farmers since the mid 2600s, and they had been very successful. A handful of Roans had tried to make it big on Earth. Nobody in the neighborhood knew if they did it or not. Easy to lose yourself on a planet numbering over 1 trillion in citizens. His family also fought in the Human/Covenant War, and participated in the liberation of his world. But he had no desire to go to fighting. Why would he? Everything he needed was here, save for his education. Allen had been accepted to the University of Berlin, a major institution in Germany on Earth. Allen was a smart boy, scoring stright 'A's on every assignment, all while keeping the farm in good working order. His parents always claimed that they had no idea where he had gotten his smarts from, but Dad always said it was probably him.

"Morning, boy." A voice growled. Allen looked up and saw his father standing in the rising sun.

"Hey, Pop."

The man looked up and down the field. "God damn, you've been working! 50 saplins since 4:30?"

"I was in a good mood today."

Allen's father shifted weight. "Uh...there's something I wanted to talk to you about." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"What's that, Pop?" Allen asked. He then saw the notarized stamp. "Oh God, Pop! Let me see that!"

"It's...from that fancy school that you applied to. It's a flight departure time. You're gonna leave in a week."

Allen read the letter that his father gave him twice over.

"This...this is in Bainsburough. That's a ten hour drive!"

"That's OK. Your mother and I will take you."

"What about the boys?"

"Your brothers are coming too. Terry and Kraig are going nuts. They're excited that they won't have to share rooms anymore." Allen's father laughed and coughed a little. "Listen son, do me a favor, will you?"

"What's that Pop?"

"Please write back to your mother and me often?"

"Dad, it doesn't cost anything for you to recieve a call. You deserve to see me."

"No, no, no. I won't put you through that. Roans have always been economic. That's why we're one of the best farming families this side of Yultide, hell, I'd push that to the rest of Sig-iv!" he added pushing the nickname for the world up. He placed a strong and callused hand on his son's shoulder. "Just promise me that you'll keep in touch then, one way or another. We clear, boy?"

Allen smiled. How couldn't he at a weathered and loving face like his father? "Ok, Pop. I can do that."

"Attaboy! Hey, I'll help pitch in here. Still can't believe you've been out here since 4:30! Ain't that the darndest...?"

Six Years Later...

"Allen? Allen Roan!"

Allen shuddered as his name was called. He dropped back into awareness, back from the dream that he had been seeing in his head ever since he left Sigma Octantis, the last time he physically saw his family. He was in a cafeteria of sorts that was filled with men and women talking, laughing, and eating. He was eating a bowl full of a type of soup called Greek, all the way from Valhalla. Despite its name, it was in no way European tasting, did not share the aroma, or even the pigments that he would normally expect from the soup. However, just because it didn't taste like he pictured it didn't mean it was bad. He just drifted out for a second and didn't notice a man standing in front of him.

"Oh, Major."

"Don't you '_Oh, Major_" me! We're not having a fucking moment!"

"Sorry sir."

"Anyway, regional CEO wants to talk to you. Must be something important."

"Why? Did he say?"

"Not a damn thing. I reccomend you finish your liquid crap and get the hell on, you hear?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Well, Allen's life had taken an interesting turn after school. He had finished with good grades, earning diplomas in Agriculture, Business Management, Financial Sciences, and Psychology. He had originally intended to expand his family business with his newfound skills, but a job offer right after caught his attention. The representative had said that the company he represented, Vanguard Enterprises, was a multi-lateral company that spread across a decent portion of Human Space, and that Allen's grades had impressed him. When he showed him what he could make if he accepted the offer, Allen was hooked.

Unfortunately, Allen's eagerness had landed him into a spot of trouble. Vanguard Enterprises was, as Allen later learned, a Private Military Corporation. Once in, though, there was no easy way out. It was with a heavy heart that he had to stretch the truth to his parents, saying that he had been taken on by a large company that was interested in his skill and that he was placed in an executive position. He had been at the company four years and already the CEO wanted to see him? What did he do, right or wrong for that matter?"

The CEO's office was an outcropping of the station they were on. He knocked on the door and it slid open. "Come in, Mr. Roan, come in." a charming voice said.

Allen stepped into the CEO's office. It was ornate. The large windows made Allen feel uncomfortable, so he averted his eyes and looked around. An expensive fireplace was burning in a marble hearth, bookshelves stacked to the ceiling, a holographic entertainment center was tucked in the back corner, and a large TV dominated the wall behind him. A spinning chair was facing the starfield beyond the window, and below it, a green planet.

"You, uh, wanted to see me sir?"

"I did." He spun around. A man nearly 80 years old, yet still looked and moved like a man almost fifty years younger looked at him. "Brandy? Coffee?"

"No thank you sir."

"Hmm." He set the bottles back in his desk compartment. "You know why I called you here?"

"Sir, I can't say that I do. I assume that I have done something wrong and am now facing the consequences for it."

The CEO burst out laughing. "Kid, you didn't do anything wrong! Far from it! You did something good! Very good!" He pulled out the bottle of brandy again and poured himself a glass. "You're funny! I like that!" He took a sip. "Ever since you came aboard Roan, we've been watching you. We watch all our agents. We monitor their progress, their actions, their decisions when it comes to completing the mission. We've seen some interesting things from you, Roan."

"Like what?"

"Your smarts are outstanding. You are a prodigy child! Hell, you managed to beat a Dumb AI in chess almost five times running and the only reason she won the sixth was because you had to go to the bathroom and she could analyze. You're also effecient! Almost every single client you've tackled said that you've been outstanding, plus you handles yourself well in that shootout with Warhammer's thugs."

"So, what is the purpose of this meeting, sir?"

The CEO looked at him with white-blue eyes. "My boy, what do you know about the Lone Wolves?"

That took Allen aback. He answered the best he could though. "Well, the Lone Wolves are kind of like the special forces of Vanguard Enterprises. They are sent on higher-risk missions to more remote regions of space. They get more high-tech gadgets and they have the ability to take a personal ship into the fray. They are not like the regular soldiers here at Vanguard, effectively unattached to the regular rank and file. They can do anything they want, accomplish their mission in any way that they deem neccessary, and most importantly, they don't answer to anybody."

"A+ answer, Mr. Roan." The CEO said. "The Wolves are the prime aspiration of Vanguard. Everybody knows them, everybody wants to be them, not everybody can though."

"So, what are you getting at sir?" He thought he knew what the answer was though."

The CEO stood up and paced behind his desk. "Allen,"

Roan noticed that the CEO used his first name.

"Approximately three weeks ago, one of our Lone Wolf teams was investigating some sort of collective. Their investigation was related to something we had been working on for some time, but they were killed before anything could be done. The ship returned on its own thanks to the AI, but there's an issue: I need a new Lone Wolf."

The realization dawned on Allen's face. "Sir, you want _me_?"

"Certainly. Your record speaks for itself, Roan."

"Sir, I would be honored!"

"Good man! I'll put in the paperwork!"

Suddenly, another thought tugged at Allen's mind.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Sir, I know that Lone Wolves usually work in pairs. Who's my partner?"

The CEO shifted. "Well, you see, we only knew that one was dead from the get go, but we listed the partner as MIA but her health beacon was still firing off. We had the best intentions and hoped that she was on the ship when we set it to auto-return, but later that week, her biometer flatlined. Her body was nowhere on the ship."

"So I have no partner." Roan thought, believing that he truly was a Lone Wolf now."

"Oh no. You have a partner. We found her only a few days ago. As a matter of fact..." the CEO glanced over Allen's shoulder. "You can come in now."

The door slid open and Allen glanced behind him. What he saw wasn't human, not exactly.

It was a Mobian.

Allen had heard of Mobians, They were some sort of aliens from an alternate universe or something like that. She was female, a fox fo some sort. She was almost as tall as Allen was, and her ebony hair was tied in a ponytail. Allen found himself staring at the slender fox, but altered his eyes back to the CEO.

"Mr. Roan, this is Samantha Jackson. She is one of twenty Mobians currently within Vanguard's ranks, and she is the first to become a Lone Wolf."

"Does she speak English?" That was not an attempt to be funny. Allen never had direct contact with one before, so the experience was a little shocking. He didn't know if she even spoke a language he could understand."

Samantha didn't seem fazed. "Mr. Roan, I am pleased to say that I speak many languages. I speak English, French, Portguese, Russian and Mandarin. I am also Conversant in German and Japanese."

"Wow." Allen said amazed.

"Miss Jackson scored very high on her entrance examination. She is adept with a weapon and is trained in psycological warfare as well as basic ship-board survival training."

"Just part of the job, sir." Jackson said, sitting up straight.

"Now, Mr. Roan, if I read your profile correctly, you grew up isolated from Earth, and you were on missions out here during the initial contact, so you never had very much physical contact with a Mobian."

Allen's eyes shifted to Samantha, who continued to watch the CEO. "No, none at all."

"Well, I've reviewed your case files. You're both skilled in multiple weapons. Miss Jackson is a master of interrogation techniques and you, Mr. Roan have a history of impersination, using your resources to get information. I also see you have had some experience on starships. Not very much, but enough to keep the reactor from going critical. That's alright though." The CEO drew an envelope. "This is your new mission. Comes right from the top."

He slid the envelope across the desk. Stamped on the envelope was a pyramid with an eye dead center.

"ONI..." Samantha said, scrutinizing the logo.

"What's that?" Allen asked.

"The Office of Naval Intelligence." Jackson said. "We take contracts from them?"

"Sometimes things get so bad they ask PMCs for help. We got lucky."

Allen opened the envelope. The message detailed that someone high up in Naval Intelligence, someone only known as KINGFISH was tasked with destroying a group of what they described as 'nostalgic terrorists' which had set up shop in a derelict system. The message stated that this group was said to have revived Soviet Communism and was gaining strength.

"Soviet Communism in the 33rd Century?" Samantha said laughing. "Soesn't sound very successful, now does it?"

"Well, this group thinks differently." the CEO stated. "ONI has enlisted help from multiple PMCs across Human Space, we're the latest. I wanted to pick out some Lone Wolves and you two are the ready available ones. I have to warn you though. We may know the base of operations, but we are not sure how much there are."

Samantha asked, "Hold on, I thought Marxism in theory was pure! Besides, Humans have allowed some leeway and let some small subsidary government be formed."

"You're correct on both counts. The only thing is that these wannabe Communists are acting in a self-destructive measure, and they want their privacy. If you see these pictures..."

The snapshots from a Slipspace Probe showed a group of bullet-shaped devices floating in space. "These are missiles, and if we are correct, they are surviving warheads from the Human/Covenant War. Now, half-life has decreased their power in radiation, but they are still quite potent in blast power. If the Communists find that their security has been threatened, then they will launch them at any planet nearby. Your mission is to assassinate the leader, Jorvich Svalantina. What we hope is that this will stop a tyrannical reign and hopefully the people can live the way they want to."

"So we're not destroying the Communist portion, we just want to get rid of the dictator."

"Conditions are terrible. The people will not last in these conditions. We're paid to get the job done, not to think. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir." They both said.

As it was a friday, Allen liked to spend his time in Charlie's, a bar owned by one of his best friends on the station Charlie Mallard. Charlie was behind the counter cleaning a glass. His dark skin was accented by the blackness of space beyond a window.

"Hey, white boy!"

"How you doing Charlie?"

"Not bad man. What'll you have?"

"Scotch rocks."

"You know, that's the fucking problem."

"What's that?"

"You come into my shop, my place of business every Wednsday and Friday, and sometimes every other Sunday2 ordering the fucking 'scotch rock' every time for the past year now."

"Sometimes you go with what's best."

"Yeah, I guess I hear that shit." Charlie poured the drink. "So, got a new job I hear?"

"You know I'm not allowed to talk about that."

"Yeah, yeah. Procedures and shit like that. I did hear though, that you have a new partner, Mister Lone Wolf, you!"

"Yeah, shut up!"

"You get a double, on me." He poured a second glass. "So, tell me about her."

"Charlie, you ever seen a Mobian before?"

"Mobian? Oh those furry things! Yeah, I had a couple."

"Well, my new partner is a brown fox. Black hair, long legs, bushy tail..."

"Her? That chick..." He snapped his fingers trying to remember. "Samantha! That's her name! I have to admit...she's hot, man!"

"Whatever you say."

"What, you don't think so?"

"Well..."

"Ask yourself these three questions then. 1: Is she hot? Answer truthfully."

"Well...I found myself staring at her if that's what you're saying"

"OK. 2: would you sleep with her?"

"Fuck no."

"3: Are you gay?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Charlie giggled heavily. "Too easy, man! Too easy! Personally, I'd give her a looksee."

"Charlie, she's not even human!"

"She has two eyes, two ears, two tits, and one _fine_ ass, she's alright with me."

"Well, wish you luck, my friend!" He raised his glass in mock toast.

"Well, at least let me ask you a question, white boy."

"Yeah? Fire away."

"You think you're at least gonna get along with this chick?"

"I don't know. I mean, I don't think so. Truth be told, Charlie? I'm expecting a god damned trainwreck." He drained his glass and set it on the table.


	2. Chapter 2: No Free Rides

Chapter 2: No Free Rides

March 3rd, 3237, 1234 hours

Vanguard Station _Fortune's Favor_, Alpha Tauri system

Station Shipyard

Alan and Samantha rode together in a glass elevator which went straight through the station's interior. They were greeted with rock faces and hollow interiors. As it turned out, the _Fortune's Favor_ was a converted asteroid strip mine. This old asteroid named Ramses was once upon a time a copper and iron rich rock that measured almost ten miles from its widest point to the other. It was a prospectors's wet dream. The company that initially installed the mine went bankrupt after ten years on the project by losing to a competing company which had developed more efficient drilling methods. Vanguard needed a new base of operations and bought the facility at a rock bottom price almost a hundred and fifty years ago. From there, it took large amounts of money to convert it into a self-contained city, complete with solar power stations, hydroponics facilities and enough venues to keep their private army entertained.

The area they were entering now used to be the company's mining storage chamber, a huge area almost a square kilometer wide itself. Here, massive transports, fightercraft, and even the Lone Wolves' personal corvettes. Allen realized that one of them was _their _corvette now. The elevator pinged and the inner and outer elevator doors swung open. Instantly, they were assaulted with sounds of a shipyard. Cranes loading and unloading cargo, squeals of drills preforming repairs, people yelling at each other, and the constant blurring of the PA system.

All in all, sounded like your run of the mill airport terminal.

"Place seems unnaturally busy today." Samantha commented.

"I think there was a convoy coming in. They usually get worked up over this sort of thing."

"Even so, shouldn't there be some _order_?" she asked.

"We usually treat the shipyard as it's own little domain. As long as it doesn't screw with the system, we're gonna be alright."

"Huh. I guess I have issues with that but I-"

"Allen! _Hey Allan!_"

The pair whipped around and saw Charley Mallard coming up to them, vaulting over a small stack of cargo crates.

"Watch where you're going, asshole!" The person manning that particular crate dolly said.

"Fuck you!" Charley called back. When he turned to face his friend, he was all smiles.

"Hey, you made it, dude!" He gave Allan the shoulder hug and said, "Been waiting for hours. You stand out with that jacket, Roanny."

Samantha came into the conversation. "So, this is the famous Mr. Mallard? I believe we met before."

"Well, hello there." Charley said. "How you feeling today, Miss Jackson?"

"Fair, Mister Mallard."

Allen shifted between the two. "Should I know something?"

"Well, it seems that Mister Mallard has no problem in choosing who he sexually harrasses."

"What? Charley, you did that?"

"All I said was she had tail!"

Allen rolled his eyes. "I hope you meant that in a literal way."

"I was half drunk, Allan! I would have said anything! Look! We're getting off-topic. Let me explain what I'm doing here, you dig?"

"Yeah." Roan said.

"OK. Got orders from the CEO to escort you to your new ship and to accompany you on your mission."

"WHAT?" Samantha said angered. "You are not coming with us!"

"Well, you're not in any position to argue, Jackson." Mallard said grinning.

"Yeah, don't cross the CEO."

"You're taking his side, Human?"

Allan was told that there were two ways of being refered to as a Human. The first was a sign of respect, usually accompanied by an upward tone. The other was an insult. Clearly visible by harsh tone. 20 bucks all around he could guess which one this was.

"I'm not taking anybody's side, Furry."

Samantha's mouth clamped shut and she looked away from Allan.

"Where's the ship, Mallard?"

Charley looked at his friend and his smile faded. "Right. Come on you two."

* * *

The trio started to walk into the organizational hell that was known as the shipyard. It was worse than what Charley had described. The kiosks that usually sold food to off-duty personnel was packed with people, small merchant ships were coasting in through the airlocks and those that landed were showing off their wares.

"Wow." Samantha said.

"Just see what Earth's like on a good day." Charley said. "You ever been, sweetheart?"

"No. I never stepped foot on the surface. Saw it from my transport windows though.

"Nice place, good place. Resident of the Bronx! Twenty-seven year record!"

They passed more merchants. One of them hefted a box. "Hey Char-LEE!"

"Whassup, Grey!"

"Hey, baby! I got a shipment of Hylian Blue! Got your name on it! Want to sign now?"

"Naw man! I'm stepping out for a little while. Send it to the bar. Moxie's gonna take it for you."

"Aight! Take care!"

They left the merchant who continued to unload alcohol onto a push-cart.

"You buy your booze directly?"

Charley smirked. "Cheaper than sending a runner out. It's all paperwork, paperwork, paperwork! I'm a fair man of business, don't you know. Come on, upstairs now!"

They took a flight of stairs up a few levels. Soon they were above the main level of the shipyard and the more important ships were moored here. They passed some of the smaller vessels of the station's personal defense fleet. They knew that there was a battleship patrolling the station's borders, and there were rumors of a carrier, but nobody could confirm that. Finally at the end of the catwalk, they came to a private dock reserved for Special Operations. Mallard took out a card with his name on it. He smiled and said, "Special Access." He swiped the card and the console beeped. A green light flashed and a pressure door slid open.

"Wow." Samantha said.

Carved into the rock of the asteroid, a private dock for Lone Wolves stood. Eight ships hung in gantries, all rhombus shaped when looked at head on. Two boosters sat on the ends with wings meant for radiation placed on the dorsal and ventral structures of the devices.

"Look at their names." Samantha said, pointing to the fore hull of the ships. On all of them, above and below the midline, ships had their names in gold paint stenciled with love. "They're very poetic aren't they?"

Allen could see what she was talking about. They all had elaborate names. No, not names. They were more like small sentences. The _To Be or Not to Be_, the _Eye of the Storm_, the _He Who Hesitates_, the _Better Start Running_, the _Eye of the Beholder_, the _Jack of All Trades_, the _Master of None, _and the_ Cloak and Dagger_. All of these ships were classed under Corvettes, one of the smallest classed ships deemed suitable for military service.

"These are nice, really nice." Allen said, impressed by what he saw."

"...And we get to fly one, baby!" Charley said thuroughly excited.

"Sorry." Allen explained. "Charley's always had a life-long fascination with ships."

"What sorts?" Samantha asked.

"If they float or fly, Mallard's on it." Allen said smiling.

"OK, smart guy, which ones are these?"

Mallard scrutinized the geometric shapes. "Tough to say. They look custom-made. They _look_ military, but anybody with a trained eye can determine otherwise. You see here, the ID numbers are off. A normal military ship would have three figures, four, two and back to four. This is four, two, three, two."

"So, it has a different number." Jackson said. "Anything else noteworthy?"

"Actually yeah." He pointed to the nose of the ship.

"Even corvettes have main guns on their nose. This one is otherwise. The MACs are loacated on the port and starboard hulls. They look belt fed. Makes sense," he started thinking out loud, "the smaller size would be compensated by high fire and low recharge rates, demanding more ammo..."

"YO!" Allen snapped.

"Huh? Sorry. Erm...as you can see, this is far less than a military vessel, and even much more than a yacht, if you ever came close enough for a look."

"So, let's cut to the chase." Allen said. "Which one is ours?"

An older man with a flight cap on was holding a clipboard. "The _Better Start Running_." He tapped the pad on his hand. "A fine vessel. Morrison and Kent were good, but our number comes up sooner or later." He looked at the trio. "So, who are the partners?"

"Allen Roan."

"Samantha Jackson."

The older man nodded. "Uh huh. And who are you?"

"Mallard, Charles. CEO Gustaff assigned me as Cheif Engineering Officer aboard the ship."

"Well, don't you have the easy job, Mallard!"

"I don't understand."

The old man chuckled. "You know each ship has a Dumb AI installed to assist with low-level repairs and administration functions?"

"No, I didn't know that." Charley half-grumbled.

"It means, boy, that you're job is worthless! We have technology to back it up! We keep two-man teams here. Only rarely do we have more. 10 at one time, but mostly two."

"Come on, Low-level repairs! What if we suffer a hull breach! What if the AI core overloads?"

The old man thought about that. "Well, you're not totally worthless then, kiddo."

"Oh, thanks for the support." Charley said.

Allen stepped in. "So, do we get on now?"

The man looked at his clipboard. "Uh...yeah, we can get you on. Just hold on while we tow her out here." He moved away, moving to a computer console. He muttered something into it, and the _Start Running_ rumbled out of its mooring on the side of the hangar. It was lowered to the hangar floor and the hatch opened.

"Roan, good luck out there." the older man said. "Remeber what happened to Morrison and Kent. Stay safe out there."

A lump formed in Allen's throat, but Samantha answered, "We'll be alright sir."

The flight officer saluted and walked away, busy with his other duties.

* * *

The inside of the _Start Running _was homey despite the outward military design. Past the airlock that they arrived through, the walls had a stainless steel panel, the living quarters had a carpet, television, a computer, and a pair of beds. A kitchen was in the center of the ship, boasting some excellent supplies, plus a wooden table.

The cockpit was where the plushiness ended. Every inch of the place was covered with a screen of some sort. Two chairs with acceleration webbing were hard-bolted to the deck, and a state-of-the-art interface stood before them.

"Wow! What a ship!" Charley said.

"I am glad you think so, Mister Mallard." a voice said.

This made them jump for a second.

"Who are you?" Samantha asked, a little shaken.

"Ah, forgive me, fair dame, allow me to introduce myself."

The hologram projector sputtered, and a man with blond hair, a neatly trimmed beard and moustache as well as a a rapier appeared. He stood straight as an arrow.

"My Lords and Lady, I am Hamlet, Prince of the Danes."

There was a brief silence. "Who are you?" Roan asked.

"You do not know me." the AI said, crestfallen.

"You uneducated morons." Samantha said. "Have you ever read Shakespeare?"

"Can't say I have." Allen said. "Why, was he a good writer?"

"A good writer?" Sam said surprised. "He was the _best_! _Hamlet_ was one of my favorite stories, right behind _The Merchant of Venice_!"

"What's that, a fairy tale?" Mallard snickered.

Sam huffed, and said, "_Hamlet_ was a story based on betrayal and madness! It was one of Shakespeare's most popular tragedies!"

Hamlet smiled. "I see the young lady is up to date on her Ancient English Literiture."

"I try."

"Well then, let's begin!" Hamlet clapped his hands together. "You know who I am, but I am not sure I know who you are...Let me see...You, one one with the jacket. You are tall, large arms. I assume you are Allen Roan, correct?"

"Yeah." Allen said. _Not fair, you're an AI_.

"Fair lady, Mobian, You are no doubt Samantha Jackson." Hamlet bowed deeply. " A pleasure."

"Likewise." Sam said back.

"Ah...and this must be the third group member. Mister Mallard. My _competitor for _Galaxy's Best Mechanic."

Charley did not smile. "Literiture legend as well as comedian, huh?"

"Mister Mallard, I know you are Mister Roan's friend, but I assure you that I have the well-being of the ship handled. Perhaps you can be the butler?"

"Ohoho...you are so lucky you don't have a body or I would kick you in the nuts right here and now!"

"Charles, hang on." Allen said laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. He turned to the AI. "CEO Gustaff signed him on. He has qualification. Did you recieve a letter?"

Hamlet placed a hand to his chin. "Well, just hang on a moment. Allow me to...huh...I see..." He looked to the trio. "I have just updated my inbox. CEO Gustaff has, in fact, signed him onto your mission as a technical and practical engineer. Mister Mallard, my apologize. I hope there are no hard feelings."

"Yeah, no hard feelings." Charley said with hands folded.

The sarcasm made a swishing noise as it went over the AI's head. "Very well. We are introduced. You may have a seat. Mister Mallard, I believe there is a spot at Navagation available."

Charlie looked around and saw the spot. He sat down.

Hamlet regarded the bridge and looked slightly unnerved. "What's wrong?" Allen asked.

"Oh...nothing on consequence, sir. I was only a fortnight prior when I looked upon your predecessors in those very spots."

Allen and Samantha gulped.

"What were they like?" Samantha found herself asking.

"Well, they were friends for quite some time. They apparently had a lot of fun, made jokes, and took pleasure at watching the stars on late nights on the ship."

"...And now they are dead."

Hamlet said, "I would prefer that we move on. As Shakespeare once said, '_All the world's a stage and we are the players_'."

"Agreed." Jackson said.

Hamlet once again placed his hand to his chin. "I have begun the launch process. I reccomend strapping in now."

The group heeded the AI's warning and tightened their seat belts. Immedietely after, the ship lurched foreward, carried by the claw that held it. Closer and closer they approached a circular airlock that was a hundred feet across.

"Oh, they're going to fling us." Roan said understanding.

"What does that mean?" Samantha asked.

Hamlet cleared his non-existant throat. "Miss Jackson, allow me to elaborate. 'Flinging' is a concept of ship launch that does not utilize any fuel. Instead, the ship's own momentum supplied by the claw which now holds us, will send us into zero gravity. This method is also used in ceremonial christening events where after a champagne bottle is struck, the new vessel is cast off or, more correctly, gone through a process known as 'Momentum Assisted Release and Acceleration', MARA for short."

"So, that's what we're doing?" Sam asked.

"Precisely." Hamlet responded. "Look, the Inner Door is cycling open!"

The door leading to the airlock slid open and the ship was carried in. They were in a room with grey walls. Red lights pulsed on and off, signifying that the air was being pumped out. The door behind them had closed by this time and was sealed. Ten seconds later, the red strobing light was replaced by a solid green one, meaning that the pressure was at a complete vacuum.

Silently, the Outer Door cycled open, and revealed to them the glorious starscape.

"I never get tired of this view." Sam admitted.

"That planet sure is pretty!" Charley said regarding the orb below them. "Does anybody live there?"

Allen was also looking at the planet. "Wow! Look! Northern Lights!"

They looked towards the planet's poles. The glowing lights of the Aurorae Borealis swam around the heavenly body.

Hamlet cleared his throat again. "Ladies and gentlemen, if I may distract you from your sightseeing, we are preparing for the accelerated motion. The seatbelt light is now on."

Charley muttered, "Oh, so he _is_ a comedian."

They all lurched in their seats as the craft suddenly was dragged forward. The spedometer showed that they were moving at hundreds of kilometers per hour. There was a _thump_ above them and suddenly, they were coasting free.

"Dockmaster has released the _Start Running_. Dockmaster is now transmitting proper acceleration vector." Hamlet reported.

A green line coasted up and away from their current position.

"_Uh, K-546, you are cleared on acceleration vector bearing two-eight-zero by zero-five-zero degrees. Confirm_?"

Allen hit the intercom. He had seen enough pilots do this to know what to say. "Solid Copy. We confirm. Acceleration vector two-eight-zero by zero-five-zero."

"_Yeah, you're green lit. Backblast clear. Good luck, guys. _Fortune's Favor_ out._"

Hamlet said, "I think I'll take the wheel."

There were tiny puffs throughout the hull as the _Start Running _positioned herself in vacuum. Hamlet had taken control of the ship.

"Bringing engines to fifty percent. We are off, ladies and gentlemen!"

* * *

The _Start Running_ started picking up speed, moving farther away from the _Fortune's Favor_. Soon, the asteroid base was a speck against the planet behind it. Behind that, Aldebaran burned ferociously in space, yet little more than a bright circle the size of a nickel in space.

Hamlet placed his hands behind his back. "We are now one and a half million kilometers from the _Fortune's Favor_, outside of the regulated position. We can now jump to Slipspace." He smiled and winked from existence.

"Wait! Hamlet!" Samantha said.

"Yes, madam?" the AI's voice said.

"Where are we going?"

Hamlet's hologram reappeared and two bright spheres were floating in his hands. "Our destination will be the planetary system known as HD 6114 in the Andromeda constellation. The distance to the destination system from Alpha Tauri is 334.494 lightyears, give or take. Now, the bad news."

"What bad news?" Charley asked.

"We're going to have to put you on ice."

The three of them groaned.

Being put 'on ice' was a slang reference to cryonics, in which a person was placed under suspended animation while a ship was in Shaw-Fujikawa space. Civilian ships had the ability to travel up to sixty light years a day in Slipspace, but government regulations did not allow them bigger drives to go any faster. Oh no, those were for the military ships. Navy vessels, thanks to the Sangheili, obtained faster drives, allowing them the ability to go upwards of six _hundred_ lightyears a day.

Made them all feel like they were Naval Personnel.

By Hamlet's calculations, it would take them five and a half days of constant Slipstream travel to get to HD 6114, so they did the only thing they could do:

Strip down.

Technically speaking, cryonics technology was so standardized, that it barely changed at all. One of the real kickers was that most soldiers needed to go into cryo naked. This had reasons though. If clothes were to be worn through suspended animation, the skin underneath the fibers would become blistered and raw, and above all, painful.

So, people go into cryo wearing nothing but an embarassed look on their faces.

A third cryopod was installed on the ship for Mallard to use, so he wouldn't die of boredom while the the _Start Running_ coasted through nothingness. This made him very glad.

Currently, the guys were undressing in the bathroom.

Mallard was inspecting his form in front of a mirror. "Huh, I think I need to lose weight."

"You've been saying that for two years, dude."

"Yeah, what about you? Fucking alcohol's gotten to you too!"

"I drink it every week. You're around it every day!"

"Hey, we are not having this argument, Allen!"

"Only if you say we are..."

Sam coughed. "Uh...gentlemen..."

They wheeled around and saw she was completely naked,

"Oh my goodness." Charley said pretending to shield his eyes.

"You're terrible, Mallard!" She growled pointing a finger.

"I am pretty bad when I want to be."

She gritted her teeth and walked from the room, angry tail swishing behind her. The two men stood, not saying anything for a minute.

Allen broke the silence. "That was the best you had?"

Charley smiled and chuckled. "I _told_ you she had a fine ass! We got to see it naked!"

Allen shook his head. "I am not interested."

"Yeah? A little birdy's telling me otherwise."

"FUCK YOU!" Allen roared beating his best friend with a bar of soap.

That didn't stop him from laughing. "Come on man! That was loaded! I had to do it!"

Sam had already frozen herself. She was wearing an angered expression, her brows furrowed because of the argument earlier. Her hands were also balled into fists.

Charley took that opportunity as well. "Oh my, it looks cold in there."

"Get in the can, you animal."

"Love to!"

"Freeze yourself, _now_." Allen said with finality.

Charley huffed, climbed in the cryotube and waited for it to close. "Night night." he said. Soon, the tube's internal temperature was lowered and he recieved an injection that prevented cellular damage. In two more minutes, he was fast asleep in his cold bed.

Allen likewise climbed into his pod.

Hamlet's voice came to him. "Your friend Charles is...interesting..."

"Yeah, but he's a good guy."

"In case you're wondering, I can get you a copy of the security tape after."

"Wait, what?"

"Said too much. Initiating suspension protocol."

The lid came down. Allen rolled his eyes but smiled. he felt the pinprick as he recieved his injection and slowly drifted off to sleep. By the time he woke up, he would be around a new star with a mission to do. The last conscious thought he had was of Sam, her wonderful, goddess form.

God damn you, Charley.

"Good night sweet prince," Hamlet cooed and shut off the lights "and may flights of angels send thee to thy rest."


	3. Chapter 3: New Leningrad

Chapter 3: New Leningrad

March 6th, 3237, 0012 hours

Exiting Slipspace 125 million kilometres from system center

12 million km from closest planetary body

_Initiating thaw cycle. Please present authorization code. _

_***FISHMONGER***_

_Authorization code confirmed, PVT AI HMLT-2618. Raising internal temperature._

_Crytotubes 1-3 Reporting nominal core temperature. _

_Subject 2 , increased brainwave activity, possible REM spike. _

_Subject 1, increased blood flow, within normal parameters._

_Subject 3 shows nominal levels of activity._

_Rise and shine, children._

Steam hissed through the exhaust ports of the cryotubes, and for a moment, the Plexiglas canopies frosted on the inside. The thawing procedure was now in full swing. This was a precise procedure, which was designed to minimize, and even negate what was known as "Freezer Burn", an effect of the cryostasis containment when skin bonded to polymers in clothing or when temperatures became imbalanced.

Hamlet ensured that this would not happen. He carefully monitored the individual temperatures of the pods, making up for anomalies if they showed up. So far, so good. The soldiers were coming out of sleep perfectly normal. Hamlet brightened the lights in a process known as "Sunrising". It was believed that a person was more likely to get up quickly if they sensed the sun rising. This could be interpreted by heat on the skin, or the retina registering the light behind the closed eyelids, even while in REM sleep.

Much to his delight, Jackson, Roan and Mallard all stirred from their slumber. Mallard was the first to respond, and sat straight up. He stretched his back, wincing from the cracking spine.

"Good morning, Mister Mallard!"

"Yeah." Charlie grunted. "What time is it?"

"Technically that is an irrelevant question. 'Time' has no meaning in interstellar space, as it is impossible to keep track on one set source of time."

"Look man, I'm cranky, I haven't had coffee, and I've been a naked popsicle."

"It is 12:13 AM on March, the sixth, thirty-two-thirty-seven."

"Why so early?"

"Well, it was our predicted arrival time. Turns out I was slightly off when it came to the minute factor. We actually arrived thirty four minutes ahead of schedule!"

"Stunning."

Allan was up second, stepping out of the cryopod lightly. "Well...that was refreshing." He blinked as he tried to stand the shining lights. "Hamlet, you mind turning those lights down?"

"I shall wait until Miss Jackson has recovered from her sleep cycle."

Sam started stirring.

"So, has it been five days?" Allen asked.

"It has, Mister Roan; five and a _half_, to be precise."

"So we're at our destination then."

The Prince of the Danes shrugged. "I would prefer that the _remainder_ of the crew be conscious before I divulge that information."

At those words, Sam started to stir from her slumber. Her eyes creaked open, she shivered slightly and jumped out of the pod.

"I hate those things."

"Morning, sexy." Charlie joked.

Sam remembered she was naked.

"_Shut up!_"

"Ladies and gentlemen." Hamlet interjected. "Can we please be mature and civil for a moment?"

Banter died quickly in the cryobay.

"We have arrived at our destination, approximately twenty-six thousand kilometers off course, but we are in a good location. Welcome to the HD 1446 system! If you will proceed to the bridge, I can provide you with your mission briefing." With that, Hamlet's avatar dispersed, leaving the three to scramble to get dressed.

Sam tried not to make any...suggestive movements as she dressed up. By the time she had buckled her belt and slipped on a black cotton T-shirt, Mallard and Roan were ready to go.

"We all good?" She asked clipping a KK-24 pistol onto her belt. Mobian-made.

"Yeah." Allen said. "That your pea-shooter?"

"Had this weapon ever since I was on Mobius. Has a lot of history behind it."

"Like what?"

"Well, you see, my family lived on an ancestral farm since the colony started in 2290 or some time way back. My ancestors were adopted by the Human farmers that were there. They worked and were taken care of, and when a disease killed the homestead owners, they gave it to my family before they died. Anyway, the wilderness was a dangerous place. Creatures I can only assume were muted attacked us often, and we needed some form of defence. When I was 12, I got this gun."

She held up the KK-24 for them to see.

"Saved my life. A mutated mountain lion attacked me and I had to shoot it. I didn't think anything of it, but I am alive because of this weapon."

She slotted it back into her holster.

"Well, I can't say that I have a big history with my gun or anything like that, but I was a big history buff. Ancient stuff, you know?" Allan smiled as he walked over to a weapons locker on the other side of the room. He opened it up to reveal a disassembled weapon. Neither Sam nor Charlie could make out what the gun was until he assembled it. It was a blast from the past.

"Allan, what is that thing?"

He finished by sliding the charging device back. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the M1928-A1 Thompson SMG."

"How _old_ is that thing?" Sam asked.

Hamlet chimed in, his arms tucked behind his back. "That, madam, is well over a thousand years old. Well, the design is anyway. The Thompson was used as a submachine gun by American forces during World War II. It was also popular with gangsters and rumrunners during Prohibition in the 1930s."

"So, what's a gun like the Thompson doing in the 33rd?"

Allen answered that. "I found a person that made replicas of old weapons. This _looks_ like a thousand year-old gun, but the interior is completely up to scratch with anything we have today. Kind of like a body-kit you have on a car. Sure, it _looks_ like a Ferrari, but underneath the hood, you have a Civic or something like that."

"Wow." Sam said. "Got any other surprises for us?"

"Just my 1911." Allan answered, indicating a fairly old-looking pistol which had a silver finish.

"Ancient history, huh?" Charlie asked. "Fires .45s? Don't care how old it is. Baby has bite."

Hamlet cleared his throat insistently. "If I may, my subjects, I _implore_ you to make your way to the bridge. We don't want to go into battle blind."

"Yes, I agree, Lord Hamlet." Sam said.

The ass-kissing factor was through the roof with her. No doubt she was trying to get brownie points with the corporation by complying with the AI.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, my dear." Hamlet said with a sly smile. "However, I enjoy a title! Please proceed to the bridge."

Sam half-scowled as she was told off. Allan looked at her.

"Ha-hah."

* * *

The interior of the _Start Running_ was cramped. Any ship her size would face a similar dilemma. In the main passageway, they had to make sure that they walked on the right side of the walkway, as further down the corridor, a pipe dipped ever so slightly lower. If they were to avert their gaze, one of them would get a nasty smack to the head.

Sam palmed the panel that opened the bridge door. A dual pressure seal slid open. It was eerily similar to an airlock design. In truth, it was. If the ship were to get holed, compromised sections of the ship could be sealed off to protect the rest of the crew. Not like the _Start Running_ could absorb very much fire until she vaporized completely anyway.

Allan and Sam sat in the helmsmen seats. Prince Hamlet rose like a phoenix from ashes with the grace of a dancer. He certainly _acted_ like he was royalty.

In the far distance, two bright orbs floated in space.

"HD 1446 is a binary star system with a series of three planets, all terrestrial, plus a ring of debris along the system's edge. Here is a representation of the system."

Hamlet's hologram disappeared and was replaced by that of the star system. Two slowly encircling stars were surrounded by four rings. Their ship was a red arrowhead just below the system equator.

The readout also showed that they were 15 million kilometres from a planet nearly one-and-a-half times the size of Earth. It was titled 'New Leningrad'.

"Mark me." Hamlet said. The trio looked at the computer. "Heed my words." Three holographic files covered the projector, each with the All-Seeing Eye that was the symbol of ONI. Since none of them were truly soldiers, they couldn't understand the full extent of ONI's cryptic nature.

They did, however, get an extremely bad vibe from the symbol.

"Our orders, as per Section 2, Office of Naval Intelligence Department of Propoganda. These were forwarded to me on day two of our slipstream jump. Our S-F transceivers picked up the message. It was fragmented, but I feel I reassembled it to a fair extent."

Hamlet waived his hand over the files. Red letters coursed over the programs. _TOP SECRET – EYES ONLY_.

Hamlet huffed. "Hmph. Paranoid fools. Pass-phrase: _Rover-Juliet-12_."

At once, the red letters became green and flashed. _ACCESS GRANTED._

_FWD to: Better Start Running (K-615), Lone-Wolf Team Bravo_

_CC: ORDERS_

_People, these came in before you left. I had them combed for any inconsistencies. Now, by the time you're getting this, I can only assume that you're on ice, barring a containment failure. ONI Operative, Codename: VIPER sent me the outline of your assignment. Looks like a zebra on text. You will get as much as they will allow, and even that is pushing it. _

_Good Luck, people._

_CEO Gustaff. _

_From: Codename: VIPER_

_To: Codename: COALMINER_

_Subject: NEW LENINGRAD_

_Fwd Add: .com_

_File Code: Blue_

_Just received the long-range scans from [-] approximately twenty minutes ago. The results are just as we guessed. There seems to be a rogue colony out there, meaning that they are not under administration from the Colonial Administration or military governance. [-] and [-] assure me that this will not get out of hand. _

_According to what we were able to dig up, the HD 1446 system has three planets. One of which is our so-called rogue Communist state. Communism itself made a major impact in the early to late 20__th__ Century on Earth with the great dictator Joseph Stalin, Mao, and even Castro. Come on, [-], you should know who these people are. [-]. _

_Communism itself was thought to be flawed, as the entire world wouldn't be for the idea as many societies were founded under different principles. Democracy, or more accurately, a free-trade market is an example of this difference. This was why major tensions rose between the East and the West. _

_Now in space, it's a whole other ball game, more-so if you have your own planet. Here, there's nobody that can get in the way. You can effectively make your own government independent from everyone else._

_In theory._

_In practice, this is easier said than done. Normally, colonial construction and placement has to go through both the CAA and the UN. I checked with [-], and discovered that there was no papers or proof of any kind to suggest that there was any procedures that were followed. _

_I can count on my finger how many times that's happened. [-] times actually. _

_Our scans of the planet, which included one close flyby by an unmanned probe has revealed plenty about our target. The planet has only three major cities, all on the same mega-continent. The rest is all farmland. _

_Living conditions are terrible. This is the worst I've ever seen since [-]. People are starving, riots are common, and whatever military there is present has imposed martial law. On first glance, it would appear this is the old fashioned Socialist problem, that, on principle, it just cannot support a whole population. On closer inspection, one would discover that it is not the government, but the man who controls it. _

A photo of a man in his mid fifties with silver hair, a jagged scar across his eye, and a strong mustache appeared.

Svalantina.

_This is the supposed dictator of the New Leningrad society, Jorvich Svalantina, Supposed Socialist hardliner. Ancestors were devoted Stalinists back in the 20__th__ Century, and has been arrested multiple times for public, and sometimes violent, protests. _

_We hypothesize that most of Svalantina`s flock is consisted of Insurrectionists, rebels, their sympathizers, and extreme leftists. Not a combination that I am comfortable with. _

_These people are dying, [-], and I for one cannot stand it. Despite what the public thinks of us, god damn it, we're here to help people! We'll be sending agents in to try and assassinate Svalantina. Hopefully, his little politburo will fall apart after. _

_Don't want an egg running the show that's more rotten than he is. _

_Agents will be dispatched at [-], from [-]_

_Wish them luck, old friend. _

_We'll meet later, and discuss in greater detail. No need to spur the censors over paper. _

_-Codename: VIPER_

_Office Of Naval Intelligence, Section II_

[Press ENTER to continue]

* * *

They each read the letter and were silent for a second. Alan was the first to speak up. "This is _bullshit_ by the way!"

"I agree with Alan on this one." Sam said. "Those agents are _dead_. The Lone Wolves that were sent before us are _dead_. Our chances don't look very good."

"Think Vanguard has something against us?" Charlie asked.

"Irrelevant, Mister Mallard." Hamlet responded. "Whether you believe Vanguard has a personally vendetta against you is not pertaining to our current situation."

"Hmph. Sorry I asked." Charlie said leaning back.

Hamlet gestured to the windshield. "That ball out there is New Leningrad, the home-world of this new Soviet Union. If I bring us closer, they will hail us and question us."

"Will they recognize the hull design?" Sam asked, frantically looking around for ships, even though an act like that would be pointless in space.

Hamlet stroked his holographic beard. "Hmm...I do not believe so. For all intents and purposes, we've never been to this system before. Also, judging from the derelict around here, such as this _Cleopatra - _class Star Liner, thirty kilometres off starboard..."

A stripped-down version of a passenger liner coasted by, trailing frozen coolant and deck plating into the vacuum.

"I think that multiple vessels have been here, possibly even more. We're safe." He drew his rapier absent-mindedly. "At least, that's what my calculations say."

"Life in the hands of an AI who talks like a freak." Charlie said under his breath.

Hamlet snarled. "Tedious old fools."

Alan nodded his head. "Alright, too late to turn back. Let's fire her up and get closer."

"Yes, Mister Roan." Hamlet said cheerily. "Reactor to one hundred percent. Current heading one-eight-zero by zero-zero-zero. All ahead full!"

The _Better Start Running_ pushed forward. Occasionally a small piece of micro-debris pinged off the hull. Hamlet assured that the Kinetic Barriers surrounding the ship would deflect the larger pieces, and even then, the _Start Running_ had a 50mm PDW (Point Defence Weapon) at her disposal. A pinprick of light brighter than the stars went off and started to get closer.

"There's the border patrol." Sam noted.

Alan then realized something. "Oh wait! We need a background! A cover!"

"Shit! You're right!" Charlie agreed.

"Hamlet, can you help?" Roan asked.

Hamlet smugly smiled. "I actually anticipated this would happen. Not to worry, I have multiple covers on file. Oh, how about this one: László Kupec. You're a Hungarian farmer from Reach, seventy miles from Ócza. Sam, you're his wife Emília."

The two exchanged an uneasy look, but Sam said, "Alright. What about Charles?"

"Here we are. Mister Mallard, you are now Klaus Fudrich, the Kupec's farmhand."

Charles' mouth twitched. "You mean...like a _slave_?"

"Whoa now." Alan said getting up. "Now is not the time."

Mallard did calm down, but not before the ship got within ten kilometres.

"Act natural. Pretend like you're monitoring the systems." Hamlet advised, and disappeared.

A hail request blinked on the dashboard. Alan tapped it. "This is the _Start Running._ We are receiving you."

The voice on the other hand was probing, curious. "_Private craft, we acknowledge your presence. Why are you here? Speak quickly_. "

"My name is László Kupec. I've come all the way from Reach to join the commune."

"_Hmm. That was out in the open. Where did you get the fancy ship, citizen pilot?_"

"I received it at an auction. The previous pilots died and I obtained it."

"_You don't mind then of we come in for a closer look?_"

"Not at all."

Sam whispered in his ear, "What. Are you. Doing?"

"He's not going to let us go lightly. He will need to inspect the ship, ensure that we are who we say we are."

"_What about our guns? We have a military grade MAC cannon on our ship!_"

"Relax. Hamlet retracted the guns. They won't see anything."

"_Who else is on the ship, citizen pilot_?"

"My wife, and my assistant."

"There is nobody else aboard?"

"No-one else."

A searchlight flooded the bridge. Everybody shielded their eyes as the patrol craft dipped up and over the ship, surveying it for any suspicious signs. There were none.

"_Alright. Everything here checks out. Can't believe a Hungarian farmer picked up this beast at an auction. Lucky man. You can go through...comrade._"

"We're in." Sam whispered.

"_We'll need to a secondary search once you land at New Leningrad spaceport in Volgovard. You will land at Pylon 7. You will be met by comrade Silverstein, the man in charge of your search. If we find anything that seems 'out of the ordinary', you will be confined. Might even send you to the gulag._"

"What's a gulag?" Mallard asked.

"Don't know."Sam admitted. "It doesn't sound good though."

* * *

The _Start Running_ broke through New Leningrad's atmosphere and coasted through the clouds. A fairly large city beckoned them forward. This was Volgovard, the capital city. Skyscrapers shot into the air and ground cars milled around in the streets. Here, an imitation of free-market economy ensured that money spent went to the state. All to further the socialist progress. There was farmland for miles around. Heavy combines ploughed through the fields of golden wheat and made neat bunches behind them.

"You know, this doesn't look like a bad racket." Sam admitted.

"It's not the politics; it's the ones pulling the strings." Alan said.

"Files relating to ONI or Vanguard have been deleted for your safety." Hamlet announced. "We're on our own now. Best get dressed before we land. There are some clothes in the closets to sell the deception."

The ship got near Pylon 7 and set down. The skids compressed under the weight and the engines shut down.

They were in their new home now.


End file.
